Dubious Honors
by upsidedownbutterfly
Summary: In which a Six is very excited, an Eight is decidedly not, the whole plot is rather silly, and any perceivable point is entirely nonexistent.


Title: Dubious Honors

Author: upsidedownbutterfly

Summary: In which a Six is very excited, an Eight is decidedly not, the whole plot is rather silly, and any perceivable point is entirely nonexistent.

Rating: PG

Spoilers: vague ones for "Deadlock"/"Someone to Watch Over Me"

Disclaimer: They're not mine, people.

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><p>Stepping out of the heavy raider, Eight let out a weary sigh. The past two weeks had easily been among the most miserable of her life, and Eight was looking quite forward to getting started on forgetting about them entirely. It wasn't that she'd anticipated spending two weeks sequestered in <em>Galactica<em>'s dark underbelly, patching up fractured hull plating with a bunch of annoying humans as crewmates, to be anything approaching a good time, but the experience had managed to underwhelm even her incredibly low expectations. It would be good to be back home on the baseship, with her own bed, reliable plumbing, and food made from something other algae.

Yanking her hair out of its grubby ponytail, Eight summoned all the energy that still remained to her and began making her way towards the exit of the hanger deck and ultimately the sweet relief of the showers. Two and a half steps later, she plowed straight into the front of a Six who had, as far as Eight could tell, magically materialized before her.

"You're back!" Six exclaimed. Eight gave her a smile so strained it probably crossed over into a grimace. It wasn't that she wasn't glad to see her friend; she truly was. It was just that right at this moment, friends were ranked somewhere distantly behind shower, food, and sleep on Eight's personal hierarchy of needs.

Six either didn't notice or more probably chose to ignore Eight's lack of even the most vaguely enthusiastic response, because she immediately launched into a point by point summary of every event, no matter how insignificant, that had occurred on the baseship during the past two weeks. Eight didn't bother to try and stop her. She'd learned long ago that trying to stop Six in the midst of one of her gossip binges was rather like trying to stop the universe from expanding, except in that at least the universe wouldn't get mad at you for the effort.

Fortunately however, Eight had also learned that Six tended to consider these to be monologues, and so long as Eight maintained the barest pretense of listening, she could completely tuned Six out, secure in the knowledge that her input would not be called for. Thus, nodding absently at what she hoped were appropriate intervals, Eight pressed resolutely on towards the showers, trailing the babbling Six behind her. As long as she finished before they reached the showers, Eight didn't care. She was absolutely going to take her shower regardless; she would just vastly prefer to do it without Six jabbering at her from the next stall over.

Three decks later, Six's drone finally tapered off. Eight tried not to look too relieved. "Is that all?" she asked, losing the fight to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

"For the most part," Six replied, and Eight nobly resisted the temptation to wonder out loud what parts she could have possibly left out. There was blessed silence for all of four seconds and then: "I'm so envious of you, you know!"

Eight blinked. "What? Why?"

"You got to meet another one of the Five!" Six exclaimed, grabbing Eight by the shoulder and all but yanking her friend around to face her. Eight cast a longing glance down the corridor in the direction of the showers.

Six however was practically glowing with exhilaration as if meeting one of the Five was the next best thing to meeting God himself, which when Eight thought about it, was actually probably a fair assessment of the attitude of a sizable majority of her brothers and sisters.

"Mostly I got to spend two weeks repairing hull fractures," Eight pointed out in the most dully rational tone of voice she could muster in the vague hope that her utter boredom with the Five proved to be contagious. "It wasn't particularly thrilling."

If anything, however, Six grew even more excited. Her already vice-like grip on Eight's arm tightened to the point of drawing blood, and her eyes adopted a particular gleam that Eight had last seen in the Threes immediately prior to that whole unfortunate boxing incident.

"But you saw _him_, didn't you? Tyrol? What was he like?"

"Of course I saw him, Six. I worked for him," Eight replied, grabbing Six's wrist as she did so, and yanking her friend's hand forcibly off her shoulder. The chunks of skin lost to Six's perfectly manicured nails were probably a fair enough trade for the chance to continue her interrupted progress towards the showers. "And he was very… boss-like," she finished lamely. "I don't know. It _really_ wasn't that big of a deal."

Six however would not be dissuaded from her rampant enthusiasm. "Did he _speak_ to you?" she queried, scurrying down the corridor after Eight.

Eight shot her a disbelieving look without for an instant breaking stride. "No, he communicated his orders through a series of complex whistle patterns coupled with ancient Colonial dance steps."

There was a single horrifying moment in which Eight was struck by the acute fear that her sarcasm would sail right over Six's platinum-blonde head. Finally, however, it seemed to register, and she gave Eight a playful shove. Eight seriously considered shoving her back far less playfully. "I meant," said Six, stressing the 'meant' in a manner that suggested she suspected too much time among the humans had rendered Eight a bit slow, "did he speak to you directly? Personally?"

Eight sighed and sent her mind back running through memories of the past two weeks. Had he? Honestly, she couldn't even really recall. For the most part, the only distinct impressions of her time spent on _Galactica_ were of an aching back and the foul smells that still clung to her even now. Two things, she noted bitterly to herself, a shower would certainly cure.

Actually, now that she thought about it, there was that one time… "Yeah," she finally said. "Once."

Six grinned that creepily beatific smile characteristic of her model, while looking for all the world like she was about to float off the deck. "Really?" she gasped. "What did he say? Something deep and meaningful, right?"

With a roll of her eyes, Eight stopped short, wincing only slightly as the distracted Six plowed into her right shoulder. Schooling her face into an expression of severe gravity, or at least an expression that did not include a maniacal grin, Eight turned, grabbed Six by the hands, and stared deeply into her friend's eyes. "He said," she began, pausing for dramatic effect. Six was positively quivering with anticipation, and Eight allowed the silence to drag on until it became clear that her only option besides finishing the sentence was to watch Six spontaneously combust. "He said, 'Who the frak taught you to drill?'"

The pair of incisors piercing the inside of her mouth was the only thing that prevented Eight from laughing out loud, but even that was barely enough: Six's deflation had been so immediate and thorough. And there is always something inherently funny, in Eight's opinion, about crushed expectations. Not that Eight necessarily enjoyed torturing her friend. Just that Eight enjoyed torturing her friend when she stood between Eight and a good long shower. She shrugged. "Like I said, it wasn't particularly thrilling."

Extracting her hands from the limp grasp of the shell-shocked Six, Eight turned and began hurrying off toward her long-denied shower. A few moments later, she rounded the last corner, her destination at last in sight, mere paces away down the corridor. Relief so intense that it bordered on the hysterical welled up inside her. She was about to burst into a desperate sprint down the final stretch, when suddenly, Six was once again materializing at her side, her excited glow firmly if inexplicably reasserting itself.

Eight groaned. Six just gave a contented sigh, eyes staring dreamily at some far-off point well above Eight's head, which was probably how she failed to notice that her friend was wearing an expression suggestive of severe cylocidal tendencies. "I bet he offered you some really insightful tips on how to improve your drilling though, didn't he?"

Eight's face hit her palm.


End file.
